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So this is 40: Ramblings on my 40th Birthday
Today, I turned forty. Wow. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been conducting an internal investigation to understand why this feels so significant. Maybe it’s the cultural weight of entering a new decade. Maybe it’s because December always has a way of stirring things up for me. Or perhaps it’s because, if I’m being honest, the last decade of my life bears almost no resemblance to the decade I thought I’d have. I’ve been writing down notes, little reflections, gentle reckonings, honest observations as I grapple with this milestone, but as I sit here, writing this with my everyday morning coffee in hand, everything feels a little louder. A little…
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On the Edge of Turning 40
In sixish weeks, I’m turning 40. It’s just a number, right? I’ve never been the type to get worked up over age. Maybe it’s because I was always the youngest growing up. I was the last to get her license, the last to turn 18, the last to turn 21. It’s funny how your attitude shifts from “finally!” to “already?” Turning 30 didn’t faze me. I laugh along with the “getting old” jokes among my friends. Even after experiencing the kind of loss that permanently rearranges your relationship with time, I’ve still seen my birthday as a reason for celebration. I’m acutely aware, painfully aware, of how fortunate I am…
